


The Big Picture

by Kissa



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: Geralt lets his thoughts wander at night and Jaskier dreams. Both activities yield interesting results.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 107





	The Big Picture

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me earlier while doing yoga.  
> I think it's pretty cute. And many thanks to Shirin David's song "Gib ihm" for actually putting me into the groove needed to actually write it out, before this too died as an unwritten daydream in my mind.

The witcher sat up against the headboard and waited for his breath to return to normal. He knew he would be good to go again in just a bit, but he did not need to. He was content with just how things were.   
  
The sheen of sweat his earlier activities had given him was cooling and drying off on his skin.  
  
Beside him, Jaskier had fallen into a deep sleep, recovering at his pace.  
  
The first time they had admitted to how drawn to each other they were, they had indulged in the new closeness quite excessively. Geralt had found it a satisfying amount, but it had left Jaskier uncomfortable for a whole day. He was not designed to take so much of Geralt in one night.  
  
Geralt stifled a graphic thought about the state of Jaskier’s butthole after that first night and admitted to himself he had gotten carried away. But that was Jaskier’s effect on him. And no, he wasn’t shifting the blame, but the younger man had a way of getting under his skin that no one else had.  
  
However, Jaskier himself had not complained in the least. He had waited the discomfort out like a fat cat who had been living on a diet of canaries, looking very smug and pleased with himself. Geralt dreaded the turn his verses would take now that he had discovered the properties of witcher dick. The bard was already known for being too explicit.  
  
And that was the thing about Jaskier. They had been traveling together, parting ways, reuniting, and the bard had barely changed. He did not possess any mutations or magic, as far as Geralt knew, and he had a special knack for finding trouble and getting into it… and somehow always surviving unscathed and often with his enemies turning to friends - or lovers.  
  
The witcher wondered if perhaps they lived in an imaginary universe. Since the Conjunction of the Spheres, it was widely known the world was a multiverse and every conceivable structure was possible as long as one could imagine a parallel reality.  
  
Why not, then, accept the possibility that they were characters in someone else’s story? Someone who clearly viewed Jaskier as their main character, and Geralt as the quiet, less likable sidekick whose purpose was to wander the Continent in search of trouble and ways to dig Jaskier out of said trouble.  
  
He looked at the sleeping man next to him. Jaskier slept like a happy baby now, with his arms raised and bent on either side, fists framing his face. He looked young, disarmingly young, his features relaxed and serene in slumber. His lips moved softly as he dreamt of talking to someone, no doubt, and Geralt was surprised to hear his name, followed by a smile.  
  
He was in Jaskier’s dreams.  
  
How strangely their lives had become interwoven. The lonely witcher had gone from “I show you my affection by not killing you” to “I hope I die before you do” and if he was honest with himself, in this quiet hour of the night, he had no idea how to feel these feelings and sort through them. They left him scared and paralysed, unlike any real life monsters.  
  
“Do you really not sleep at all?” Jaskier asked sleepily. “At least lie down and hold me, I want to make the most of this quiet night. Who knows when we’ll get the next one.”  
  
Geralt growled to express his exasperation at how bossy his bard friend was, but he did exactly as he was told and let Jaskier practically climb on him and settle against his warm, fuzzy body.  
  
“I had a dream. I don’t know whether to be frightened or pleased. But in it, we were just two characters in someone’s stories. A friendly looking older man, writing in his house and then letting others read his stories instead of traveling to tell them live. You were his favourite character. He was writing your adventures. And I was there too.”  
  
“Strange. I was thinking the same earlier. But some favourite character I am. Shit fate, fucked luck. Haven’t caught a break in life since I was weaned off the tit.”  
  
“Maaaaybe you are lucky because you know me and I get you into adventures?” Jaskier said, raising his head to look at the witcher. “And just maybe he keeps me safe so you can go off and do your grand heroic thing? Then I tell everyone about your epic deeds. Just like him.”  
  
“Sounds like a shit saga.”  
  
“You know nothing, Geralt. The essence of loving your characters is making them climb up a tree and throwing stones at them while they’re up there.”  
  
“Is this your way of admitting you are a covert sadist?” Geralt said, rolling his eyes. “Spare me the…”  
  
He did not get to finish his snarky remark as Jaskier decided a kiss would be the best strategy for that moment. 

In all honesty, Geralt could not object - nor did he plan to. 


End file.
